From the Beginning
by EchoesOfSilence
Summary: Taking the throne was never a part of his plans, but anything was possible with her at his side.


Okay so here it is, my first Dragon Age story, constructive criticism is welcome, be nice, please? :)

Disclaimer: Bioware owns it all, I only WISH I did!

* * *

He sat before the fire in the Royal Palace, staring blankly into the flames, pondering every moment leading him to this place, this day…

Duncan had come to the Denerim Chantry on a mission to find a recruit for the Grey Wardens, not just any recruit, the bastard son of a king. He'd always known who his father was. Growing up at the Castle Redcliffe, well, life hadn't been easy. Eamon had been kind to him, he'd stepped into the role of a father willingly, albeit hesitantly, but he'd been better to him than anyone else had been. He'd cared for him in ways that the man who'd sired him could not. To acknowledge his very existence might've undone the entire royal line, something Maric could not allow, regardless of personal feelings or want. He'd always thought it strange that the King timed his visits to coincide with his birthdays, and special occasions. Maric had always treated him kindly as well, though he was careful to never seem too obvious about it. He did look out for the young boy, just never openly.

It wasn't until Eamon met Isolde that life became unbearable for the boy. Overnight it seemed he'd gone from a carefree child, when he wasn't working in the stables, to her personal slave. She'd hated him from the moment she'd moved into the castle, constantly hounding him, making him dread crawling out of bed in the mornings.

When he'd finally been packed up and shipped off to the Chantry at the age of ten, he should've been thankful. It was his stupid own fault, or hers. That morning had started like many others before. He'd awoken to her screeching, shouting obscenities at him in her heavy Orlesian accent. He grumbled, and pulled himself out of his makeshift bed, a cloth thrown over a pile of straw in the loft over the stables. Since the Arl had married Lady Isolde, Alistair had taken to sleeping in the stables, avoiding the castle, and Isolde, at all cost.

She'd struck him as soon as his feet touched the floor. And without thought or care, he'd struck back, and in doing so he'd sealed his fate. By sundown that very day his meager belongings had been packed and he was on his way to Denerim. His relationship with the Arl was in ruins, or so he'd thought. He'd struck the Arlessa, an unforgivable act in his ten year old mind. He'd been so angry at the Arl for casting him out, within hours of leaving Redcliffe he'd come to understand the decision to send him away. It didn't, however, make him resent the choice any less. The few times the Arl had attempted to see him on his trips to Denerim, he'd refused to acknowledge him.

* * *

It wasn't until several years later that the Arl re-entered his life. Several months after Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, had come to Denerim looking for a recruit. Duncan had known from the start who he was, and had requested him by name. He'd stood strong against the Knight Captain of the Templar Order, going so far as to Conscript the young Templar Recruit when the Knight Captain continued to refuse his requests. He'd spoken to Alistair at great length, giving the young man the freedom to choose his own path. In the end, Alistair chose to join the Wardens, and was eternally grateful to Duncan for saving him from a life of Lyrium addiction.

After arriving in Ostagar, and spending time with the other Wardens, he'd come to feel, for the first time in his life, that he belonged. Joining the Wardens gave him purpose, something to fight for, to believe in. It wasn't until his brother arrived that he started doubting himself again. His brother, he mused, the King of Ferelden, Cailan. He was arrogant, spoiled, and everything Alistair had expected. In his opinion, it was a good thing Cailan had married Anora, for Anora was the real force to be reckoned with in that marriage. _She_ ruled the nation while her spoiled, selfish husband played at being king. He reached for glory and honor while his wife sat on the throne. "A child wanting to play at war…" Teyrn Loghain had later called him, and he'd been absolutely correct.

He'd held the Wardens in the highest regard, the king did. But even the Wardens couldn't stop what was to come. Duncan had arrived back at Ostagar with a bedraggled, ashen faced young woman. A rogue with amazing skill and the most beautiful, haunted, sorrow-filled turquoise eyes he'd ever seen. And she looked so familiar, yet he couldn't seem to place her, until he heard her speak.

Duncan had sent her to locate him in the camp soon after they'd arrived back at Ostagar. She'd been wandering the camp, exploring, and had found the other two recruits and sent them back to Duncan's campfire while she continued searching of Alistair. Her mind wandered as she searched, remembering a boy she'd once known, sure it couldn't possibly be _him_. She'd found him harassing a mage. The Revered Mother had sent him on this errand intentionally, knowing how it would rile the mage in question, and himself. And yet, he'd accepted her request because Duncan had reminded him, more than once, that everyone needed to work together.

So there he was, handing out one of his better insults, or so he'd thought, when this amazing little beauty appeared at the top of the ramp to the clearing where he and the mage stood arguing. The mage, seeing his reaction to her appearance, spun on his heels and all but shoved her out of his way as he stormed off to speak to the Revered Mother.

It was only after their brief introduction that he began to place her. Once she'd made a comment about him reminding her of her brother, Fergus, he knew for certain. He'd seen her around Castle Redcliffe throughout his years there, her family had made the trip every year for the Summerday Festival. Though he'd always been too shy to ever really interact with _her_, he remembered Fergus as one of the only real friends he'd ever known. Fergus hadn't given a thought to Alistair being 'beneath him'. He was a young boy, roughly the same age as Fergus, with many of the same interests, and that's all that had mattered. But even as a boy he could see the great beauty she'd become, and clearly she _had_.

"_Err__ýn_?! I—I remember Fergus," he'd exclaimed. "I—what I mean is-He-"

"So it _is_ you! We always wondered what happened to you. Arl Eamon only stated you'd been sent away whenever Fergus would ask after you. Alistair, I—Wait, how did you end up a Grey Warden? Have you seen my brother? He came with Father's men days ago! Surely you saw him?"

"I'm sorry, we'll have time later to talk more about all of this, I promise. Right now I'm certain Duncan is waiting for us at his camp, no?" He'd cursed himself for forcing her mind back to the business at hand. "But could you tell me how it is _you_ came to be here, a recruit for the Wardens? I can't imagine your family would allow it."

The pain that flashed across her face was more than enough to answer his question. He reached out, pulling her to him as the tears came, and silently held her as she cried, doing his best to comfort her and feeling like a complete ass for making her cry.

Once she'd gotten herself back under control, she stood with her head resting on his shoulder for a moment more before whispering that they were all gone. She'd readily agreed to join the Wardens, and hoped to locate Fergus once she'd arrived to give him the sorrowful report. Though in the back of her mind she couldn't help but note the hard muscle beneath her cheek, and the very male, woodsy scent tickling her nose. He'd certainly grown out of the gawky, gangly boy he'd been years before, and he seemed to take much pride in the fact.

"So," he paused as his arms dropped from her shoulders, "how about we head to Duncan's camp to see what's in store for us? I know he's eager to get the joining completed and out of the way. That is, unless you have any questions? Are you okay, I don't know what happened to bring you here, but I've got two good ears and a shoulder should you need them." He offered with a small smile.

"He said we're going into the wilds, is that true? Maybe we'll find Fergus, I—well, for now we have other things to focus on, right? You can count on me taking you up on that offer later though! Let's get moving, there's a lot to do before nightfall." She grabbed his arm, turning toward the direction she'd come from and heading for Duncan's fire. He couldn't help but notice the gentle sway of her hips as she moved, and how nicely she'd fit against him as he'd held her only moments before. Her hair smelled of roses, even with the grime of travel clinging to her, she'd smelled so sweet.

* * *

They returned from the wilds in record time, including an unplanned and unexpected side trip to locate the body of a Missionary from Redcliffe, and another to rid the wilds of a rage demon that had been bound there for many years. Watching her move in and out of the shadows during the fights they encountered with the many darkspawn in the area, well, she was captivating.

How many times had he blinked only to find she'd vanished just as a Hurlock was about to cleave her in two? He couldn't keep count, his heart leapt to his throat each time. She truly was a sight to behold in battle, her face a mask of determination and disgust while facing down the vile creatures wreaking havoc on their world.

She bumped him with her shoulder as they made the trek back to the ruins from the wilds, allowing the others, Jory and Daveth to gain some distance, closely following that witch Morrigan. (He still shuddered in disgust at the thought of _her_.) "So what can you tell me about the joining?" she'd asked. "I know we needed the vials of blood, but Duncan didn't say _why_."

"I wish I could tell you, truly. Unfortunately, you'll have to wait to find out. I swore an oath when I survi—I mean, when I _completed_ my joining to never reveal the details of the undertaking, I'm sorry." He said, hanging his head slightly, praying she hadn't caught his slip.

"Wait! You said '_when you survived_' –

"No I didn't! I most definitely said 'when I completed' yes, I'm sure of it! When. I. _Completed_."

"Alistair?" she smiled at him sweetly, "what aren't you telling me? Is there a chance of _dying_? Please just tell me!"

"You swear not to hurt me?" at her nod he continued, "well, there is a small chance, but it's a chance each of us recruited must take. Consider it a way of proving your loyalty to the order, once it's over you'll be a full-fledged Warden!"

"Well, we all have to die one way or another, no? And I promised my parents I'd take revenge on—oh! Let's just go please, the others are too far ahead." She darted forward, hurrying to catch up with Jory and Daveth just as they reached the original path leading back to the ruins where the Joining Ritual would take place.

_Who is she to take revenge on?_ Alistair thought to himself, _and__** why**__?_ He trudged on, picking up the pace a bit in order to catch up with his charges before they reached the gates of Ostagar. She was an enigma, that was for sure. He sent a small, desperate prayer to the Maker that she would survive the Joining so he could figure her out.

* * *

She opened her eyes to find Alistair and Duncan standing over her gazing directly into her face and was instantly furious at them both, aside from feeling shaky and weak from the ritual itself.

"_Nothing_ you said prepared me for _**that**_!" she shouted. "And _you_!" she said, rounding on Duncan, "You killed Jory! He had a baby on the way, a wife, a _family_!

"I know you don't understand, but there was no backing out. Once you're recruited, it's a lifelong commitment. Jory had been warned, as had you and Daveth along with every other member of the Wardens. I'm sorry it had to come to that, but there was no other way."

Clearing his throat, Alistair got her attention, reaching out to hand her what appeared to be a necklace, dangling from his fingers. "This is for you, it's an amulet. All Grey Wardens own one. See, we take a few drops of the blood and place it in a sealed vial, as a sort of reminder of those who didn't make it this far, and of the duty we each now carry. Please don't be angry, there are reasons we can't make the Joining Ritual public knowledge, as you now know. I'm sorry for not telling you earlier, but I couldn't." He looked so hopeful, his eyes begging with her for forgiveness and understanding.

She sighed, "Okay, okay! I just don't appreciate being deceived. Don't do it again, you won't like the results, I promise." She punched his arm again as she passed him to follow Duncan down the ramp to meet with the King.

It had been years since she'd spent any amount of time in Cailan's company, personally she found him arrogant and overly proud, boastful even. But as he spoke, Alistair kept coming to mind, his voice, his eyes, and even his smile. And then she saw it, the resemblance was there, the exact shade of his eyes, even that smile. They were brothers. No one had to tell her, _she just knew_. She wondered if Alistair himself knew. But before she could ask, things fell swiftly into a downward spiral. By the time the night was over she'd completely forgotten about asking him.

* * *

She awoke in a strange room, and it hurt to move. Her muscles ached in ways she hadn't felt in years. Not since she'd begun her rogue training in Antiva. Alistair was nowhere to be found. She groaned, sitting up slowly, she spied Morrigan in the corner across the room.

"Ah, you've finally awoken; Mother will be pleased, as will that lumbering buffoon she saved with you."

"Buff—Alistair?"

"The suspicious, dim-witted one you were with before, yes. He's been driving Mother and I to distraction fretting over you. Between his incessant need to be underfoot guarding you and his moping and whining about the battle and those lost, ugh!" Morrigan shrugged, scowling.

"Those _lost_? You mean Duncan, Cailan, where—How—" Errýn choked out.

"Gone, they're all gone. I imagine the darkspawn have made quite a feast of them. I would _not_ want to witness what is taking place within that valley right this moment. Anyway, Mother is waiting outside, as is that idiot '_friend_' of yours." She said over her shoulder, turning back to the pot of stew she'd been stirring.

"How can you be so—Oh _never mind_! I'll go speak to your mother and check on Alistair!" That said, Errýn scrambled into her clothes as quickly as she was able and stormed out.

"_**Alistair**_!" she cried, all but running to where he stood looking out over the marshy land surrounding the little hut. "You're alive! I—"

"You made it," he exclaimed, "Maker! I was so worried. You didn't wake up for _so long_! I—Are you okay?"

"Your fellow Warden is fine, as I told you she would be." Said a voice from behind her.

"Thank you for saving us—I don't know your name, or I'd greet you properly. My name is Errýn Cousland, the newest member of the Grey Wardens."

"You, my dear, can call me Flemeth, I—"

"_The Flemeth_?" Alistair interrupted, "How is that even possible?"

"Need I remind you I just saved both your lives young man?" she snarked back.

Turning to Errýn she continued, "I'm sure the two of you are eager to be on your way, before you go, I have one more offer of assistance, my daughter, Morrigan. She knows these wilds better than anyone, and is also a very powerful mage in her own right. She can see you safely from the wilds, and would be a very valuable asset on the journey you face."

And so it was that they ended up bringing along that nasty, evil witch, as he'd taken to calling her. And nothing anyone said would change his opinion if her, not even after _that night_, and all that followed…

* * *

They'd made their way to Lothering upon leaving Flemeth's hut, and met two more people to join their rag-tag team. They'd also learned of Teyrn Loghain's treachery the night of the battle, and that _they_ were being blamed for the death of his brother, King Cailan. He'd reminded himself yet again that he really needed to speak to Errýn in regard to _that_ bit of information. It was just whenever he tried talking to her he got all tongue-tied and nervous. She was so _beautiful_ and seemed to really care about the people she was recruiting to this cause.

So far, they'd visited Kinloch Hold, the Mage Tower in the middle of Lake Calenhad, and found it in utter chaos. Demons and abominations running the halls attacking or possessing anyone they came in contact with. After being trapped in the fade, where Errýn had managed to locate, and 'awaken' each of her friends, they'd then defeated the monstrous Sloth Demon who'd trapped them there. But succeed they did, and had gained a powerful ally in the mage Wynne, who then joined them on their journey, with the First-Enchanter's blessing.

After leaving the Mage Tower and returning to camp for a much needed rest, they continued on until they located, and recruited the Dalish Elves, after clearing up a long-standing dispute with a pack of werewolves inhabiting the Brecilian Forrest. The fact that the clan leader of those elves, Zathrian, was responsible for the entire conflict _still_ left him shaking his head. However, they'd succeeded at one more step in their plan to build an army. They'd also closed a very distant chapter in Wynne's past. The old Mage took comfort in finding a former apprentice, Aneirin, allowing her just a bit of peace in her last years.

* * *

Sten, the very large Qunari, to this day he still didn't know what to make of the giant. He was rigid in his beliefs, and good to have around in a battle. His greatsword, Asala, (as he'd informed everyone,) was a thing of beauty. And he never let it out of his sight, once they'd retrieved it from that urchin Dwyn in Redcliffe, that is. Sten had been locked in a cage in Lothering after massacring an entire family upon waking after being attacked by darkspawn and finding his sword missing. The family had insisted they'd not seen it, but it didn't stop him from slaughtering them bare handed. Fortunately for him Errýn, with the help of Leliana, had convinced the Revered Mother of Lothering to release him into her custody. And so it came to be that Sten of the Beresaad joined their fight to save Ferelden, and possibly the world.

The assassin, Zevran Arainai, had joined them shortly before they located the Dalish, he'd been hired by Loghain to hunt down and eradicate the remaining two Grey Wardens, and he'd failed, miserably. Not only did Zevran tell them everything he knew of the plan to remove them and the threat they posed to Loghain's push for power, but he'd joined their cause, essentially thumbing his nose at his former employers, the Anivan Crows.

The lay-sister from the Chantry, Leliana, _she_ was something else. The way she fought, there was no doubt she was skilled with her bow. And she'd kept him, Zevran and Errýn in stitches at camp as they'd traveled together. Other nights she sat in quiet contemplation, tossing surreptitious glances at the other members of their party, himself included. She seemed to pay especially close attention to his interactions with their beautiful leader, and he wondered if she suspected how he was feeling, he got his answer the following day as they were just stopping for lunch.

"Alistair, I was wondering if we could speak alone for a moment?" she'd said. "I'm wondering about something and thought maybe you could help me?"

"Sure—uh, what do you need?" he cursed himself for the stutter, grumbling about sounding like an idiot, yet again.

"Well, I notice you and our fearless leader spend a lot of time together, and I was wondering—well—is there something going on there? I've seen the way she looks at you, when she thinks no one is watching. I've also seen the way _you_ look at _her_, and I have to wonder why you hesitate…"

"I don't know how to approach her! I mean—every time I'm near her I turn into this stuttering idiot, I try to talk to her, but I don't know how!" he dropped his head in his hands, groaning.

"Just relax Alistair, or try to. Stop worrying about how you sound and just let things happen as they will, naturally. You'll do fine!" Leliana glanced back over Alistair's shoulder, noting that Errýn was staring hard in their direction. She patted his shoulder then brushed past him, nodding to Errýn as she made her way to the cauldron of stew bubbling over the fire.

* * *

He turned in time to see Errýn head into the trees, making an excuse of searching for water as she left. He was certain he'd seen tears in her eyes, and moved to follow. Leliana caught his eye, shaking her head slightly, trying to tell him not to follow. He didn't listen, and in a way that was possibly the best thing he could've done.

He found her seated at the base of a tree with her face buried in her arms, softly crying, mumbling to herself, he'd thought at first. As he drew nearer he realized she was praying, or rather, pleading for something. "Errýn? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, but I was worried. You looked so lost when you left camp, I just—"

"Shut up Alistair, just—could you please just hold me?" He didn't hesitate, just dropped down beside her and pulled her into his arms, not speaking, just letting her cry.

Several minutes later she whispered, "I miss them, I miss them _so much_! We were always so close; I don't know what to do without them, any of them. Rendon Howe will _pay_ for what he's done!"

"_Howe?_ I—start at the beginning please? Or at least help me to understand a bit better?"

"He killed my family, everything I knew, everything I believed in, it's all _gone_, and he took it all away, leaving me the stupid little nothing you see before you. I had dreams once, he took those too. It wasn't until I found you again I'd started to hope, but it seems I was wrong about that as well—" She glanced up at him, feeling her own cheeks starting to burn.

"What do you mean 'you'd started to hope'?" he said, looking down at her lying against his side, their faces just inches apart. "Do you have any idea—" He stopped himself from saying more. And then she kissed him, a small whimper escaped her. His hands found her shoulder length curls and tangled in them, he opened his mouth, trailing his tongue across her lower lip, nearly growling as another small whimper left her. She gasped, allowing him access to her mouth.

He didn't know what possessed him, or how he even knew what to do, he only knew he had to taste her, just once. Even if it never happened again, he had to try, now. If this was his only chance, he had to take it. He couldn't believe how sweet her mouth was, it was all he'd dreamt, and more. Before he knew it she'd turned to face him, climbing across his lap, tangling her fingers in the hair at the back of his head. All too soon it ended. She pulled away with a sigh, burying her face in his neck, her breathing as ragged as his own, and hot on his skin. "Alistair, I—I'm sorry! I know you're not interested in me like that. I just—"

"Are you out of your mind? How could you think—_what on earth gave you __**that **__idea_? Maker's breath woman, I've been trying for _weeks_ to figure out a way to approach you!"

"But you and Leliana, the way she smiled earlier, she looked so smug! Or was I imagining that? I don't have much experience at this, I don't want to mess this up, whatever _this_ is." she trailed off.

"Trust me, there is _nothing_ going on between Leliana and I. She asked me earlier if there was something between _us_—you and I. Apparently she'd noticed a few looks, and the amount of time we've spent together, talking and whatnot. She offered some advice, that was all." He stopped talking when he saw the look on her face. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"You mean to tell me I was jealous over _nothing_?" she broke off laughing at herself, causing him to join in. After a few more minutes she settled herself next to him, curling up against his side, his arm still casually draped across her shoulder.

He broke the silence by clearing his throat. "So, that kiss, that, uh, that wasn't too soon, was it?"

"No, that was, well, it was phenomenal, to put it mildly. I'd like to try that again sometime." She said, thankful that for once that she'd inherited her mother's small frame so he couldn't see the blush on her cheeks. "But I think we ought to head back to camp before someone comes searching for us. Thank you for listening to me, Alistair, and for just being here. I couldn't imagine doing any of this without you, really."

"None needed, my dear. I'm just glad we cleared the air, and it helps that I understand more of what you've been through. You've listened to me go on so much about losing Duncan and the rest of the Wardens. I've been a complete idiot not even bothering to take into account all that you've lost!" he hung his head for a minute before looking back at her. "Before we head back, I just want to say how much it means to me to have you here. I couldn't imagine doing all of this without you either. You're the one _good thing_ that's happened in all of this and I appreciate you. However, there is one more thing you should know before we continue. I probably should've told you sooner, but we'll heading to Redcliffe soon and I don't want you to be shocked, or angry that I didn't tell you—"

"If you're talking about Cailan, I already know. You're his brother. Maric is—_was_ your father? Don't look at me like that Alistair, I figured it out on my own, and no one told me. It just took seeing you with Cailan for me to see it. Did Cailan know? Somehow I can't see him dealing well with it at all. I'm sure Maric knew, Eamon too. Though come to think of it, Cailan may have known too, seeing as he and Duncan did everything they could to keep you out of the heavy fighting. Maybe your brother wasn't quite the idiot I'd always seen him as. Well, it's something to consi—"

He shut her up the only way he knew how, he kissed her, and by the time he'd finished, they were both pretty well speechless. "Ahem. Are we done here? Okay then, let's head back before I do that again and we both forget what we're _supposed_ to be doing."

He spent the rest of that evening fixated on her, and shook himself more than once to stop staring. Not that she seemed to mind, any time she caught his eye she smiled a secret little smile. He caught her more than once touching her mouth absently as she stared into the darkness surrounding camp. _Maker, she's beautiful_, he'd thought for the millionth time since she'd appeared before him in Ostagar. He couldn't believe his luck. Even as she sat next to Zevran, questioning him about being an assassin, she kept glancing across the fire in his direction.

* * *

Shale, now there was a character. She'd been a dwarf once, ages ago. She'd known Caradin, dwarven Paragon and hero, who'd volunteered to be turned into a golem. They'd come across a control rod, given to them by a merchant stranded along the road heading north after skirting around Redcliffe heading to Orzammar. They'd had to backtrack to Honnleath, and ended up saving a little girl from a desire demon before finding out the correct phrase to activate said golem. Much smaller in size than a typical golem, Shale was fierce and flippant, with a serious dislike of birds, but mostly pigeons. Shale had no memory of her life as a dwarf, though Caradin assisted, filling in some blanks for her, and the information he'd volunteered eventually led her to her home, Cadash Thaig, in turn allowing her to recover some of her lost memories.

The only member of their small band he avoided even _thinking_ about was Morrigan. He hated her, and everything she stood for. And it wasn't just his training as a Templar that drove him to dislike her so much, it was the smug look on her face, the constant disapproval and air of superiority that she cast on everyone around her. She was evil incarnate as far as he was concerned, doing little to nothing to assist those around her, and only pitching in when there was some personal gain to be had. How he'd later let Errýn talk him into—well, he _really_ avoided thinking about _that_!

The only thing he had to thank Morrigan for was saving both his, and Errýn's, lives. And he seriously disliked acknowledging that fact, except that he knew regardless of how he felt for the witch otherwise, he owed her more than anyone knew. She was the reason he was still here, why Errýn was still here. She'd given them this chance, but at what cost? HE shuddered in disgust to think that his first time had been with _her_—NO! He wouldn't think of that, not now. It had been a requirement, nothing more. There had been no joy in the act, there'd been no feelings or emotions involved. It had been an act of desperation; that was _all_. And in return, he was here, still alive, with his love. Morrigan was long gone, as promised, along with his bastard demon baby, as he'd taken to thinking of whatever that night had spawned. What became of her, and the child, he didn't expect to know, nor care to as long as she kept her vow to disappear and stay gone.

* * *

He was torn from his reverie by a light tapping on his door, unsure of how long it had been going on. He jumped from his seat, rushing to see who was there, a hopeful flutter in his belly at the thought of her, sneaking to see him. It had only been a couple hours since dinner, but the night seemed endless as he anxiously awaited dawn and all that was to come. A look of disappointment crossed his face before he could hide it. "Leliana, what brings you here?"

"Errýn, she sent me to ask you to meet her in the garden, the usual spot, behind the fountain." The bard sighed, "I tried reminding her that you were supposed to remain apart tonight, but she insisted she had to see you before it's too late."

"Tell her I'll be right there, and thank you Leliana, for everything." He closed the door, turning to retrieve the small carved wooden box sitting on the chest behind him. It wasn't much, but it was something he'd seen while he was out at the market earlier, and he knew it would be perfect for _her_.

He slipped out of his room, after checking to be sure there was no one hanging around the hall outside his door, thinking to himself how ironic it was that a king would feel the need to sneak around his own palace. And a king he was. It wasn't anything _he'd_ planned, nor expected, but it was no less real. He'd been furious with her when she'd made the announcement, for a split second, and then stood by in stunned silence for the remainder of the Landsmeet, trying to wrap his head around being named the future King of Ferelden _and_ especially the part about her ruling beside him! He'd been avoiding talk of their future as there was so much fighting left to do, and the future was so uncertain. Well _he'd_ thought it was uncertain anyway. But somehow the thought of ruling the nation didn't seem quite so terrifying when he thought of her being beside him every step of the way.

He'd arrived at the garden without incident, thinking how odd it was he hadn't crossed paths with even a single servant. It was only after seating himself on their bench that it occurred to him how busy the servants would be with preparations for the festivities the following day. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face at the thought. After all they'd been through, everything they'd survived, he'd never been so terrified as he'd been the instant she'd sunk that blade into the head of the damned dragon. The flash of light that followed, he couldn't get to her quick enough once the Archdemon fell silent. Tomorrow she'd be his bride, and the queen of Ferelden, excitement flowed through him at the thought. Tomorrow he'd finally get to show her—

"Alistair?" she brushed her fingers across the back of his neck, startling him from his thoughts. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, Love, I was just thinking about everything that's led us here, to this point. What was it you needed to see me about? You know we're not supposed to see each other tonight….though I can't say I'm upset about it. I know it's only a few more hours, but it seems life forever!"

"I know, I just couldn't wait any longer to give you this. I probably should've done it sooner. But once I'd made the decision regarding the throne, I thought it would be a perfect wedding gift." She said, handing him the large, oddly shaped package. "And I see you brought something as well!" she added, clapping her hands gleefully.

"It's nothing big, but when I saw it, well it just seemed perfect for you. I can't wait to see it on you tomorrow. Are you—I mean, are you sure you want this? Us, I mean. We never spoke of the future before. I know this is what _I want_, but are _you_ sure? We can wait if—"

"Oh no you don't! I've been waiting for this ever since you gave me that rose, you're stuck with me Alistair, for better or for worse!" she said, looking oh so mischievous as she reached for the box he held out to her, a shy smile playing on his lips.

She sat next to him, slowly flipping the lid open on the box, her breath escaping in a rush when she saw what lay inside. A thin gold chain curled gently around a brilliant rose in full bloom, carved of a solid piece of Lapis the exact shade of her eyes. "Oh _Alistair_, it's—it's so _beautiful_! How'd you find this? It's perfect, breathtaking. I love it." She turned to face him, setting the box to the side, she threw her arms around him. "I love you, oh how I love you. I can't _wait_ for tomorrow! Now, open _your_ gift, please. I can't wait to see what you think. Sorry about the wrapping, it was awkward trying to find a way to package it..."

He tore at the paper, quickly dispatching all her hard work and sat stunned for more than a few minutes, tears forming in his eyes at the sight of the shield in his hands. " This—this was Duncan's shield, how—how did you _find_ _this_?" he asked, "I thought this was lost on the field at Ostagar! I never suspected he hadn't carried it with him. Errýn, love, how did you—thank you. You may never know just how much this means to me—I can't believe you remembered…"

"Of course I remembered Alistair, I remember everything you say. I love you, I've always loved you. And tomorrow I'll show you just how much. So, back to your room with you. I'd better go as well, before Leliana there barges over to drag me away." She leaned back and waved at the rogue standing in the shadows just far enough away to not be intrusive of their last private moment. She reached up, placing a gentle kiss Alistair's cheek and stood, reaching for the box containing his gift to her and quietly made her way to her friend, returning to her rooms to wait out the remainder of the long night ahead…


End file.
